


In Sync

by afteriwake



Series: Home Away From Home [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Science Experiments, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes and Experiments, Sherlock is Married to His Work, Sherlock-centric, Workplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 09:09:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6111762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a total arse invades his own personal lab, Sherlock finds sanctuary in the path lab and realizes that working alongside Molly is actually quite a nice experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sync

**Author's Note:**

  * For [o0katiekins0o](https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0katiekins0o/gifts), [IdrisSmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisSmith/gifts), [Saffysmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saffysmom/gifts).



> So I had initially seen **o0katiekins0o** mention that she'd like to see " _a fic where Molly and Sherlock are working together in the lab and they’re just so in synch with each other. And when it dawns on Sherlock how perfect they are together he gets awkward and cute_ " and I jotted it down as a potential idea and set it aside, and then when I did my Sherlolly Fic Claim Free-For-All last year **IdrisSmith** claimed Prompt IS, which was that prompt. I didn't write it until today, when **Saffysmom** asked for a Sherlolly fic with the first sentence from my [sentence starter](http://penaltywaltz.tumblr.com/post/139995233693/writing-prompts) prompt list and it just kind of hit me like a bolt, so I hope all of you enjoy this fic.

“Hey, can you, like, not sweat on me?”

Sherlock grit his teeth in irritation. He was _not_ perspiring in the slightest. The lab was at a chilly 18 degrees Celsius. _No one_ would be perspiring. And he and the other occupant were at least 1.5 meters apart. No, the other occupant of the lab was nitpicking because she wanted to be there _alone_. She hadn’t even been there _first_ , to be honest. Sherlock had been there first, minding his own business, when she had waltzed in, talking loudly on her mobile’s Bluetooth apparatus stuck securely in her ear, not giving a damn for protocol. She was being an absolute prat and his patience was wearing thin.

But he had promised Molly he would be on his best behaviour. For some reason when he made a scene or a fuss, the offended parties complained either directly to her or to Stamford, who then complained to her, as though she had sway over his behaviour, and then she would ask him to behave himself, and he would feel bad for having troubled her. And he hated feeling bad for having disrupted her day.

Which was not normal for him.

And he hated things that made him feel abnormal.

“I am nowhere near you,” he said quietly, concentrating on his slide. 

She let out an exasperated sigh as her mobile rang. She hit the accept button. “Oh, hi Eloise. No, I’m at Barts. Yeah, sharing a lab with this _unbelievable_ prat. Yeah, total arsehole.”

That was enough.

He violently jerked his stool back and began gathering up his things. He was finding it _very_ hard to resist the urge to hit the woman. She glared at him as though _he_ was in the wrong. Bloody insufferable git. He got his things gathered and made his way towards the path lab. Hopefully Molly was there and would let him in. At least _there_ he could get his work done and find professionalism and peace and quiet. He tried the knob and found it was unlocked. Good. He opened the door and the soothing sounds of Beethoven immediately began calming his senses. “Molly,” he called softly towards the woman hunched over a set of beakers.

To her credit, she barely startled. “Sherlock,” she said. “Why are you here?”

“My lab was intruded upon by an unmitigated arse,” he said.

“Young woman with black hair who won’t stop talking on her mobile and has no sense of professional decorum?” Molly asked, turning to face him. Sherlock nodded. “Gertrude Jameson. No one likes her. She’s been kicked out of every lab she’s intruded upon. I’ll have Mike have a word with her about going into your lab later. That’s _your_ lab. No one else is supposed to go in there unless you let them. You have special allowances.”

“Thank you,” he said with a nod. “For the meantime, however, I have samples I need to study and I don’t want to trek back up there.”

“By all means, my lab is your lab,” she said with a smile. “Is this for a case with Greg?” He gave her a confused look. “Lestrade.”

He shook his head. “Dimmock. He’s a clod but I suppose he deserves some help.”

“Ah. Well, take all the time you need. If I finish up early I’ll talk to Mike so you can have your lab back before lunch.”

He paused and then nodded. “I appreciate it,” he said quietly. She blinked and her smile grew wider before she went back to her beakers. He settled in at her microscope and went back to work in near silence, the only sound in the lab the music coming from her iPod deck and the occasional sound of her humming along to the music. He normally preferred to work alone, because usually it was a disaster on par with what he had just experienced, but this had been quite nice, he realized nearly an hour into his time into the path lab. He could get used to this, to having her as company. He didn’t have to be alone _all_ the time, he supposed.

He looked up after a moment and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Molly?” he asked.

“Yes?” she asked, not looking away from what she was doing.

“Do you suppose…” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “If you _can’t_ speak to Stamford today, do you suppose I could work here with you for the rest of the day?” he asked.

“Well, I suppose you could,” she said, tilting her head. “But I thought you liked working alone?”

“Well, there are perks to having my own lab,” he said. “But this is a nice lab. The equipment is more up to date, and the music is…nice. And the square footage is bigger. And it’s more modernized.”

She gave him a small smile. “I believe that falls under the up to date equipment, Sherlock.”

He gave her a mild glare. “Yes, well.” He coughed slightly. “And I suppose the company is tolerable.”

“So I’m only tolerable?” she asked, her tone slightly teasing.

He turned back to his slides. “All right. More than tolerable.”

“It’s all right to want company, you know. You don’t have to be alone all the time.” She paused. “You can keep your lab arsehole free and still come into my path lab whenever you want, you know. I have no problem with that.”

“You don’t?” he asked, turning to face her again.

She nodded. “I enjoy the company,” she said. “I get a bit lonely too. I mean, I only deal with dead people and the occasional orderly or Detective Inspector. Or you. It’d be nice to see you more often.”

He considered it. “I suppose I could make it a point to come down here more often, if you don’t think it would be too much of an imposition,” he said.

She gave him a warm smile. “I don’t think it would be an imposition at all, Sherlock. And…perhaps, if you’d like, when you’re done, I could interest you in lunch at the canteen as well? Or maybe out in town?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “Let’s see how I do with these slides.”

She nodded. “All right. I’ll leave you to your work, then.” She turned and went back to her own work and they lapsed back into their companionable near silence. There was something about them that moved in sync. Perhaps he was mistaken about her, he thought to himself. Perhaps there was more to the pathologist than met the eye.


End file.
